


November Rain

by emdashesnsemicolons



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Death, Friendship, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Melodrama, Pre-The Sun Ending, Short One Shot, The Sun Ending (Cyberpunk 2077), Vague Ending, enemies to friends to enemies, standoff - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emdashesnsemicolons/pseuds/emdashesnsemicolons
Summary: Nothing lasts forever.A short one-shot.
Relationships: Goro Takemura & V
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	November Rain

**Author's Note:**

> A dramatic, self-indulgent stand-off inspired by the song, "November Rain" by Guns N' Roses.

There's a strange juxtaposition between the bright, searing pain in her overworked lungs and the chilly blue-gray haze of the early evening rain as she drags her aching body toward Arasaka Tower. The late autumn chill has stiffened her bones and joints to the point that every step is near agony. Johnny has been strangely quiet, but even so, she can feel the electric pulse of his anticipation. Perhaps it's her own, or maybe both.

All or nothing.

This is it.

A strained voice, formal and unused to yelling calls out to her over the whisper of falling droplets. "V, wait."

V freezes.

It shouldn't surprise her that he would come.

The rain sticks to her eyelashes, weighs them down heavier than the prospect of never making past the guard-laden lobby, much less Mikoshi. She gives a weary-half glance over her shoulder, just enough to catch the silhouette of the man so devoted to his late master and his heiress that he would risk his neck to stop her, devoid of any implants to prevent his age from consuming the strength, speed, and vitality he'd worked so hard to achieve. A man she had once considered her friend, fallen three stories and taken bullets for.

Her voice comes out in a dissipating puff of white.

"Go home, Takemura."

A puddle splatters under one of his steps. Then another.

"You are making a big mistake. Please. You must not do this."

Whether it's Johnny or she who tightens her fingers over the grip on her custom Crash, she doesn't know. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. They'll most likely die together tonight, and she's come to terms with that.

"You know I have to."

Another step. Another, and again until he half-circles her, stands in front of her.

"Hanako-sama has offered to help you!" He spreads his arms out, possibly to show no ill will. Possibly a misdirection. "You are playing into Yorinobu's plan."

V follows his every movement, each breath setting the center of her chest aflame.

"It's a trap one way or another."

His gray optics land on her mouth.

She tastes copper.

"Step aside, Goro," she warns through gritted teeth, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Then a plea as shaky as the grip on her gun, "Please."

All they had been through—the night spent on the rooftop discussing Chiba-11, her broken family's aimless travels across the NUSA, about the bakeneko and Opiyel Guobirán; his endless critiques on Night City's food and her rants on what is and isn't a Cuban sandwich; a quiet companionship based on the wintry void of loneliness, of abandonment; the way he'd looked at her, wide-eyed and in disbelief, when she'd crawled through the concrete and rebar and falling dust to save him from the people he'd worked so hard to protect, and still is protecting—and it has come down to this.

She's dying.

Arasaka is all he knows, all he thinks he has.

And she's going to take it away from him. And she's going to destroy it, pulverize it until it mixes into the murky waters of history.

Did her loyalty not mean anything to him so far?

"I cannot do that." His katana unsheathes with a metallic whoosh, muffled in the din of rain.

V swallows, hot tears masked in the rivulets dripping down her face, and aims the gun at him, unsteady, unsure.

There is no hesitation in his eyes.

Hers trembles on her lips.

A swooping glint.

The crack of a gunshot.

A body thuds to the wet ground.

Violence cannot be undone.

There is no going back now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll let you pick who dies. ;)


End file.
